Anomaly: Book Three: The Hand That Mocked Them
by VolcanicPizza
Summary: Hope is dead. Monsters have been almost exterminated. Asriel Dreemurr has become death, destroyer of worlds. The Seraph and the Anomaly duel for dominance of the game. A relatively unknown game developer from New England is unexpectedly drawn into the chaos. And the Writer continues to spin his tale, content to be the villain and orchestrating the events to come after the downfall.
1. The Hand

**A/N: If you're new here and haven't read the prior two stories in the Anomaly Cycle, I strongly urge you to read them now if you want even the slightest chance of understanding what's going on. You might be able to manage without, but I wouldn't count on it.**

* * *

The little gathering that the Dreemurrs had put together to celebrate Freedom Day had gotten a little out of control, Asriel considered wryly as he surveyed the unfolding apocalypse.

Well, no. "Out of control" was putting it much more nicely than it deserved. The backyard looked like it had been hit by a typhoon minus the water, and the monsters were getting more than a little rambunctious. And by that he meant they were in the middle of a pillow fight, but with chairs and whatever that oblong brown thing was. Regardless, it still was nowhere near the neat and orderly gathering Toriel had envisioned, and barring some major miracle it was going to stay that way.

Not that Asriel didn't think he could handle that, but his mom was probably going to freak out when she saw the mess in the yard, and a genuinely enraged Toriel was not something he wished to see.

Closing the door gently behind him, Asriel stuffed his hands into the pockets of his green hoodie and strolled into the common room, nodding a greeting to Sans and Papyrus as he passed them. (The latter was explaining some probably unimportant point to the former, who looked about half asleep.) Chara, naturally, was raiding the snack bowls, looking critically dismayed at the utter lack of chocolate, and Asriel couldn't help but grin at her: this was the first time he'd seen his sister genuinely smile in years.

The young boss monster slumped against the wall and let out a slow breath. _Three years of liberation, and things are finally calming down._ He could hardly remember his time as a vengeful flower anymore, and what came after was the farthest thing from his mind.

"Hey, Asriel, you alright?"

Shifting his position to the left, Asriel blinked placidly at the teenager in the red hoodie. "Course I am, Caleb. I'm just thinking."

"Always a dangerous thing." There was no malice in Caleb's grin as he smiled. "I think Frisk's looking for you, by the way, or at least I could infer so from her expression."

"Really?" Something stirred in Asriel's soul. "Where is she?"

Caleb squinted as a mischievous expression crossed his face. "Well, judging by the positions of the moon and Zodiac signs in relation to the current time, and adding in the knowledge that Weimar Germany was a vastly ineffectual system of governing, I'd say she's right behind you."

Forcing himself to move slowly, Asriel turned around to face the first savior of monsterkind behind him. Regardless, he could feel his face splitting into an idiotic grin with no prompting at all.

Frisk was standing behind him, as Caleb had told him in his anachronistically long-winded statement, a carefully neutral expression on her face. "Caleb," she managed between gritted teeth, "you weren't supposed to warn him."

"And since when have I stuck to the plan?" retorted Caleb, spinning on his heel. "I'm going to get my fair share from the snack section before Chara eats the lot. Have fun, you two!" He grinned airily at them as he left.

 _I've never seen Caleb this happy before,_ pondered Asriel as he turned his head back around to face Frisk. _I wonder if it had anything to do with-_

He cut that thought off abruptly. _It could be, and if it is this will provide me with plenty of ammunition to tease Caleb, but I've got something more important to do._

"Something wrong?" Frisk asked, concern evident in her eyes.

Asriel took her hand. "No, just-"

But before he could finish that statement, his body froze, all control over every facet of his being surrendered to a helpless apathy that threatened to drown him beneath its currents.

A hissing voice snarled in his ear, _**This is what could have been, what by all rights should have been, if it weren't for my insistence on drama and senseless bloodshed and your failures to see what is right in front of your noses.**_

Petrified, Asriel managed to move his eyes to the side and caught a glimpse of purple. _Who... What are you?_ he shouted mentally in a fit of desperation.

 ** _I am Ozymandias, king of kings. Look upon my works, ye mighty, and despair!_**

On the other side of the room, Chara cried out in pain as an overwhelming black cloud consumed body and mind, chipping away at her soul till it ruptured and released a blast of red energy across the room. Sans sunk to the ground, gasping, and he disentegrated into dust, scattered around the wreck of his hoodie. A gunshot rang out, and Caleb fell to the ground clutching his chest, inhaling desperately as blood seeped through his fingers and dripping to the ground. Papyrus's head toppled from his shoulders as he reached desperately for his brother's dust, skull freed from spine by a single gunshot.

Fearing what he would see, Asriel forced his attention towards Frisk.

She had already fallen to the ground, pale blue hoodie torn open by a bullet meant for him, Asriel, the last monster in the country and the one who should have been killed.

And then the voice spoke again, more quietly, **_Nothing beside remains: round the decay of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare, the lone and level sands stretch far away. Look upon my works and despair, indeed._**

 _Why?_ Asriel whispered, almost crying but unable to. _Why are you doing this?_

 ** _Because you need to try harder. You need something to work for. And however many of these dreams it takes, I shall not stop._**

Asriel remained silent.

 _ **Sad? Don't worry. It'll all be over soon.**_

And then the speaker slammed a hand onto Asriel's shoulder, and suddenly he was free. Spinning with a gasp, he summoned a ball of fire into one palm and launched it at them.

The speaker stood there, clad in a purple longcoat and glasses. He almost looked human but for his eyes: one was purple, while the other was completely black save for the white pupil. He barely even flinched as he dodged it.

"WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?" Asriel screamed. "YOU... YOU DEMON!"

 **"Yes, go ahead, call me whatever you like."** the tormentor replied, face blank. **"Demon, evil, destroyer of worlds- I'll make no effort to deny it, even if you now share the last label with me."**

"SHUT UP!" Asriel snarled, sending a rain of fire down onto it, but it was rendered ineffectual by the jagged purple shield which appeared around it with a simple wave of its hand.

The shield dissipated, and the demon regarded Asriel almost sadly. **"When you look at me, all you see is a murderer, and... well, who am I to argue with a label that is true? Nevertheless, the killing is done, if for no other reason than because there's nobody left to kill. N** **ormally I would stay and fight to humor you,"** the thing said, **"but I have far more important matters to attend to. Have fun with your conflicted, severely damaged psyche."**

And then he was gone, too, leaving Asriel with nothing but his regrets.


	2. From Dead to Dust

Asriel slowly opened his three eyes and let them drift around him.

Recollection came slowly- where was he? _Right._ He was currently lying at the bottom of one of the Great Lakes- he'd never bothered to learn their names, but he knew it was the farthest east.

Why was he here? That came more quickly- he had fallen out of the sky in a fit of apathy as he flew east, desperately trying to escape the devastation he'd wreaked. _Had it really only been a few days?_

He had hoped, as he flew, tears streaking down his face, that his wrath had not destroyed as much as he thought, but his hopes were sorely dashed as he went: although he did start to see knobs that might once have been mountains and shattered, ashy wreckage that might once have been buildings, there was nothing that had escaped.

Asriel had thought, briefly, that he saw green on the horizon before he fell into the lake, but he didn't care to swim to the surface and check even though it would be barely an effort for him. Why bother? Even if something had survived, he didn't deserve to live in it.

Caleb's soul pulsed, and suddenly Asriel felt himself move to the surface against his own will. _No matter,_ he thought. _He can't do anything._

But Caleb could, apparently, and as the colossal body surfaced, the human stretched Asriel's massive wings and shook the water from them.

 _What are you doing?_ snapped Asriel.

"It's Frisk." The effect of Caleb speaking with Asriel's voice was more than a little unnerving. "She's... she can't tolerate living as a mere soul."

 _Death is preferable to this,_ agreed Frisk, voice tired and weary as she "spoke" for the first time since her death.

Asriel understood immediately, and let out an enraged "NO!" as he wrenched control away from Caleb. "You can't!"

 _I'm sorry, Asriel. I truly am._

Frisk's soul thrust itself away and out of Asriel's body. It shivered in the air for a moment before shattering.

Asriel's body melted away as he felt himself reverting to his old form, but he could care less about the lost power.

All that mattered was that Frisk was dead forever now. And no amount of sorrow or repentance for his actions could bring her back.

* * *

"Mr. President?"

President Orrin Hatch- the title was still strange to him, it had been mere days since President O'Brien's suicide, after all- looked up in vague confusion from his desk. "Yes?" he asked in a voice weary from the responsibilities slammed onto him mere hours after most of his country had been annihilated, including his home state. "What is it?"

Reports were scattered over his desk. One detailed reports from satellites, stating that the gray wastes stretched from the Yukon all the way to Mexico City. Another catalogued the loss of life- more than a half of the population of North America was dead, and the waves rolling across the Pacific that had swamped many islands and all but annihilated Hawaii were even now still wreaking havoc in Japan and China, and less so in the Koreas as Japan had acted as a sort of shield.

He was too old for this.

The messenger fidgeted nervously. "We... We have received reports of a gigantic creature flying over the wastelands. Judging by what few records from the Human-Monster War we still have, it's likely a monster that has absorbed at least one human soul."

Any sympathy President Hatch may have had for the monsters and the extermination they suffered under President O'Brien vanished in a heartbeat. Clenching his fists as he struggled to check his fury, he managed in a level, albeit shaky, voice, "Then that's what caused the blast that destroyed so much of the continent?"

"Almost... almost certainly, sir."

President Hatch slammed a fist onto his desk. "That thing murdered over two hundred million of my fellow Americans. I want it killed immediately!"

"General McConville is already on it, sir."

"That's not enough!" Hatch snarled. "It unleashed genocide on this continent and almost wiped out the United States of America! I want every military unit that isn't needed to keep order in the surviving parts of the country out trying to kill that monster before it unleashes another wave of destruction like that and finishes us off!"

"As you wish, sir." The messenger turned to leave, but as he reached the doorway, Hatch called out, "And another thing? I want Project U.N.E.X. up and running, and I don't care what anyone else has to say about it."

The messenger didn't recognize the name, but the thought didn't cross his mind. He merely nodded and made his exit.

* * *

There was a voice speaking to him in the darkness.

 **.Don't be alarmed by your new form.**

 **.It will be permanent, but that is beside the point.**

 **.You can survive.**

 **.Just...**

 **.Don't die.**

 **.It can't hurt to try.**

 **.I promise.**

Consciousness was the first thing to return, memories rushing over him. _John A. Pence, t_ _hat is me, that is my name._

 _But I'm supposed to be dead... beyond death..._

 _Aren't I?_

His senses returned next, the scent of char and ruin drifting into his nostrils. Yet... something felt off about them.

He could hear howling wind, but it was strangely loud, almost like he stood inside a hurricane.

John A. Pence opened his eyes, and there was nothing left.

With a ragged cough, he struggled to his feet. He could feel dust sifting underfoot, and wondered vaguely where his shoes had gone, but he didn't bother checking. He was lucky enough to be alive again, for whatever reason, and if that meant he had no shoes he wasn't going to question it.

Pence turned in a slow semicircle, surveying the area around him.

The gray wasteland surrounded him. Hilly formations, in a similar monochromatic hue, jutted from the blasted land occasionally. Melted pieces of what might have been metal or stone surrounded him.

The most obvious thing, though, was a mountain, or the remains of one, anyway, in the distance. It looked as if it had been a volcano that exploded, as it had mostly crumbled, forming a raised crater.

 _Maybe a volcano erupted?_ But that didn't make sense. Pence didn't study volcanoes or anything, but surely there should have been lava and dust blocking out the sky if that was the case.

 _Whatever._ Mulling over whatever had happened weren't going to help his current situation, and besides it was only making his head hurt. Pence forged onward from the hole he had crawled out of, hoping that this world would start making sense soon.

Something gave beneath his bare foot, and with an angry snarl he tripped and slammed into the dusty ground. It wasn't as forgiving as it looked, and pain enthusiastically sprang up all over his body.

Pence reached out his hands to push himself up...

And then he froze.

These were not his hands.

They were covered completely in thin black fur, save for his palms and the pads on his fingers, and small stubby claws had replaced his fingernails.

Horror filled Pence as he reached for his face and found a protruding, canine snout.

"No... NO!" he screamed. "God, no! This can't be happening!"

But the truth was that he had become a member of the species he professed to despise and as a puppet of the Anomaly had almost destroyed, and no amount of terrified screaming would change that.

* * *

And in the blasted, demolished ruins of the town that once was known as Alta Nevada, near the remnants of Mount Ebbot, under the twisted, mangled remains of what might have once been a small rock or stone, dust stirred.

Fueled by the pure desperation and rage of the blast, it began cobbling itself back together. First it was just the barest outlines, and then hands, feet, clothes, all began restructuring themselves.

With a small, purple flash, the dust finished coalescing, and a humanoid figure sat, dazed, upon the ruins of an era.

And then, in a small, almost scared voice, Sans said, "i thought i was dead."


	3. Elegy

Frisk drifted beyond death, unaware and uncaring.

She drifted over the void, and the void looked into her, and it spoke courteously despite knowledge of her past sins, because they were balanced by the good she had done and tried to do.

And two voices said, _Greetings, Frisk._

She listened, uncaring, because hadn't she let herself die to escape this world and the chaos Asriel, the one person she really cared about and had worked so hard to save, had wrought upon the world?

And one voice separated itself from the other, a distinctive one she had heard many times before and grown to think of as a friend, and it asked: _What was the point of your death?_

 _Liberation._ was her simple response. _I cannot stand to live in this world any longer._

 _And so you let yourself die with everything you worked for going to waste. Yes, very noble._

She ignored it. She was tired and she just wanted to sleep. Why were they pestering her so?

 _Frisk, you cannot give up. Please stay determined, for the sake of those still living if nothing else._

 _Why bother?_

The other voice spoke, and it said: _Chara, it is no use. She will not be reasoned with in this state._

 _And what would you suggest, honorable doctor?_

Frisk wished the voices would shut up. She'd worked a long, hard day, and she needed to rest, the sooner the better.

 _Let Frisk quietly depart this world. She deserves some peace and quiet, what with what's coming ahead._

Frisk wanted to thank the other voice for their courtesy, but she was too tired. Hopefully they'd understand.

 _Surely you do not suggest we let her die?_

 _The dead do not have to stay dead. Look..._

Quietly Frisk let herself slip into darkness, the sound of the conversation fading.

* * *

Pence had been staggering onward for half an hour in his new form, and so far the wastelands hadn't ended. The only difference was that he'd seen so far was the presence of shattered remains of buildings occasionally and some piles of coarser, grainier dust that stirred in the wind occasionally.

 _Is there anything left?_ Pence wondered. _Is the entire world a gray wasteland like this now?_

Pence let himself fall into a sitting position atop the dusty land, exhausted. He'd stripped off his tie and suit jacket long ago, and he'd ditched his shoes as well, since his transformed feet were far too cramped in them, but despite all that he still felt incredibly uncomfortable.

 _Who'd think that I, the former leader of the largest anti-monster party in the country, would end up becoming one myself?_ He let out a hollow bark of laughter that sounded more like a sob.

 _No matter._ Pence forced himself upright again. _I have to keep moving._

With a sudden flash of light, a skeletal figure seemed to walk out of the air in front of Pence. Letting out an undignified shriek, the former president toppled over backwards into the dust. _Whoever this is, if they want to kill me again I'm gonna give them a hell of a fight!_

The monster, as it indisputably was, whipped around with hollow, accusatory eyesockets, but instead of attacking it gave a genuine smile of relief as pupil-like lights flickered on in the center of each socket. "god, you're a sight for sore eyes. i've been blipping around since i woke up, and you're the first person i've seen so far. what's your name, pal?"

Caught off guard by the skeleton's affable nature, it took a moment for Pence to collect himself before he could respond. "I... My name's..." The first thing Pence could think of was his middle name, and so he blurted out, "Athalwulf. Athalwulf... Pencoj."

If he was suspicious of Pence's improvised name, the skeleton didn't show it, and he let out a little chuckle. "i get it."

"Get... what?" asked Pence with a blank expression. _What does he mean?_

"ya know... athalwulf? you're a wolf... or at least, you look like one...?"

"This is hardly the time for such poor humor." Pence retorted.

The skeleton sighed. "don't like puns, do you? fine, that's okay. i'm sans, sans the skeleton. good to know that at least someone's alive." He looked expectantly at Pence. "got any idea what happened?"

"I don't know." Pence decided to take a risk. "I'm supposed to be dead, actually."

Sans glanced oddly at him. "weird. i... i think i'm dead, too. or i was, at least. so whatever did this to the world brings the dead to life?"

"I... I hadn't considered that." There were a lot of things Pence hadn't considered, actually, but he wasn't going to tell Sans that.

"alright," Sans sighed. "why don't we head towards sacramento? regardless of whether the city survived, we might find something out anyway."

Pence shrugged. "Not like I've got anything else to do."

"alright. you familiar with teleportation magic?"

"Uh... no...?"

"well, now's your chance to become familiar with it. ya might want to close your eyes, this can be a bit disorienting if it's your first time."

Pence complied, and as he felt his fur billowing around him he wondered again what exactly he had gotten himself into this time.

* * *

Asriel had no idea how long he'd been kneeling by the lakeside, holding his silent vigil for Frisk. All he knew was that it was raining now, water pelting his head, trickling along his ears and Caleb's hoodie, unzipped for now.

 _What day is it?_ he wondered suddenly. He knew it was some time in June, but nothing more than that.

 _Any ideas, Caleb?_ he asked his friend, not expecting a response.

 _Yes, actually._ Asriel's head jerked upright in shock. _I suggest you stop moping and use your powers for good instead of just sitting here feeling sorry for yourself._

 _Are you KIDDING ME?_ Asriel snarled. _Frisk is DEAD! She's DEAD, Caleb!_

 _So am I._ replied Caleb wearily. _So's Toriel and my mom and pretty much everybody either of us ever knew, and so are probably millions upon millions of people. We can fix this, Asriel! We have the power, together, to try and make things better, and you're just sitting here moping about!_

 _I..._

 _This situation is NOT as hopeless as you think, Asriel._ Caleb said. _I know that the dead can only stay dead, but YOU aren't dead yet, and it's because of what you've done and what you've used me and Frisk to do that you... I... we... have an obligation to set right what is now wrong._

Asriel stared blindly at the rippling water in front of him, unable to respond.

 _Look, Asriel. Let me put it this way._ He could almost feel Caleb forcing a weak smile onto his face. _You might not believe in yourself anymore, but I do._


	4. Outfoxed

**A/N: I apologize for the delay between chapters. Thanks to a bad case of writer's block and replanning the further future of the plot, this chapter took a while to write, but I hope that it will be worth the wait.**

* * *

 _"You never wanted this, did you?"_

 _"What, you think I did? This was the farthest thing from what I had hoped for. But my plans began after the downfall, not before, and I just had to make things go in order."_

 _"Yes. Difficult, isn't it?"_

 _"More than you might think. Those such as me know little contemporaneous reward, and while I can do without them I can't do without the hope that they'll come back."_

 _"..."_

 _"This has really helped me, you know? Thank you. I needed this."_

 _"It was no problem_. _Now let's leave this place. I can't shake the feeling that somebody's watching us."_

* * *

The television displayed more of the same dark, depressing news as usual. Satellite photos of the gray wastelands covering vast tracts of North America, the giant crater eclipsing southern Idaho and the surrounding areas, graphics of how the tidal waves had spread and scientists talking about how Indonesia and northern South America should have been swamped by the wave yet somehow escaped unscathed.

He sighed in annoyance as another headache struck him. These migraines had persisted for nearly three years now, and though the medication had helped with them it had also sapped his vitality. Unfortunately, he'd run out of pills again yesterday, so he'd just have to grit his teeth and bear it.

Somebody knocked on the door loudly, not helping his migraine, and with a sigh he got up and plodded over to the door. _Better not be some salesman or something or I'm gonna have some choice words for them._

But the only person standing there was a teenager of average height with mussed, dark hair and a tired expression almost perfectly mirroring his own. "Hello." said the teenager in a weary voice, his tone sounding like he had known him for years. "Can I come in? We've got a lot to talk about."

He tilted his head. "What do you mean, 'a lot to talk about?' Whatever you've got to say, you can say it here."

The teenager shook his head. "I'm afraid it's not that simple, or I'd gladly comply. I'm the Seraph, Mr. Fox, and if you want any hope of bringing this world back to what it was I'll need you to help me."

Shaking his head slowly, Toby Fox lifted a hand to his forehead. "Look, kid, I'm tired, I have a headache, and I don't have time for your games. Just leave me alone. Go pester someone else."

It wasn't until he'd closed and locked the door that it occurred to him that he could've approached that situation in a kinder way. After a moment's consideration, Toby shrugged and turned around-

-and jumped in shock as he realized that the teenager was now standing right in front of him. "How- how'd you-" he sputtered in shock.

"Do I have your attention now?" asked the kid- the Seraph, he'd called himself. "Listen to me. The destruction and death can be mended, the land restored, the genocide undone. But you need to help. Please, Toby. You're the last hope of this world."

The raw desperation in the Seraph's voice shook Toby, and he took an imperceptible step backwards. "All right." managed the man who would have created Undertale. "Talk."

* * *

The sun was setting on the dusty horizon, tainting the sky with dark crimson and purple streaks. Asriel walked on across the gray desert, puffs of dust rising with each footstep, southeast from the lake. In the distance, city lights glittered, likely from some surviving American city. He could have tried to fly, or teleport, or something, but honestly, at this rate? It felt better, somehow, to walk.

All around him, the devastation he had caused. Within him, Caleb's soul. Farther ahead, possibly the last humans on the planet.

But was he ready to reenter a world he'd nearly destroyed?

Seemingly sensing his inner turmoil, Caleb's soul pulsed lightly. _Hey, Asriel, can we sit down for a moment? I... There's some stuff I want to get off my chest now, while we're out here._

"Sure." Asriel replied aloud, gently settling into a seated position and averting his eyes from the wastes behind him. "What is it?"

 _First, I feel like you should know... this isn't completely your fault._ Caleb began hesitantly.

Asriel rolled his eyes. "Oh, spare me this nonsense. I've heard this already."

 _No, Asriel, I'm serious. Ever since you absorbed my soul, the control over your body has been split between us. I just... didn't really do anything. I was content to just be there, watching everything through your eyes. Certainly gave me a new perspective on everything._

 _My point is, in that moment where you lashed out at this world and tore it right down to its core, that wasn't just you. When you released that blast of energy, it was with a combination of all of our anger. Yours, mine, Frisk's... that of the souls you ruptured..._

 _But the anger was mostly MINE, Asriel. I... I just couldn't... Hell, I'm not really that sure what I was thinking. I don't even think I was. All that there was for me was that blind rage against the death of an entire race... and I snapped._

"So did I, Caleb." Asriel replied quietly. "Even Frisk... even she broke from what happened. I... I think all three of us died inside that day. Frisk just took the last step."

 _You're the only one who's alive on the outside._ Caleb sighed, a sense of finality in his voice. _This ties rather conveniently into the next thing I wanted to say, actually: Asriel, we can't undo this. The dead can't be brought back. But there's still hope._

"What do you mean?" Asriel raised an eyebrow in confusion. "What hope is there left in this world?"

 _Not all monsters stayed within the United States._ Caleb said quietly. _I remember that much. There were about fifty thousand monsters that scattered across the rest of the world. As long as other countries aren't pursuing secret holocausts like the United States, they should still be alive. What condition they're in is debatable- I remember seeing something about monsters becoming de facto slaves in Spain and Russia- but they'll still be alive._

Asriel couldn't respond. What was there to say to something like that? Even if what Caleb was saying was true, he didn't know any of those monsters. They would all be total strangers. Who was he to go into their ordinary lives and... and even if they were still alive, what would he do if he found them? What could he do? And besides, didn't Caleb understand-

 _I know what you're thinking._ Caleb's voice was solemn and gentle. _I know. They can't replace everyone who has died. They shouldn't. But you don't need to always have the pain of the past hanging over your head. You don't need to drag all the dead with you wherever you go._

"What, you expect me to just... just forget?" Asriel cried out in mixed anger and disgust. "I will _NEVER_ forget what's happened to me, to my people!"

What Caleb said next startled him. _I'm not asking you to forget. You shouldn't forget them. But you do need to let go. Barring some mythical deity rewriting the events of the last few years, it can't be reversed, and... there's... you can't... Hell, how do I explain this? I don't think the words exist yet._

"I can't just let them all go." Asriel sighed, slumping to lie completely on his back, ignoring the dusty particles clinging to his back. "I won't... Especially not Frisk."

Caleb wisely stayed silent, but Asriel could feel his emotions anyway. "Don't bother saying anything, I know what you were going to anyway. This is... private stuff, and certainly this isn't the best time to be talking about this, but... well, not like we've got anywhere to go."

"...you know precisely how I felt about Frisk, Caleb, you've had it figured out for... months, probably, being in my head and all. The problem was that I screwed everything up." Asriel paused a moment to collect his thoughts, choosing his next words carefully. "I... When... when the barrier broke... I was confused. I didn't know how to feel. During all that time in the camp, I was... conflicted is the best way to put it. I didn't know whether what I was feeling was just exaggerated gratitude for her breaking the barrier, whether I just cared about her like a sister, whether it was some stupid crush... and by the time I finally figured everything out, it was too late. I'd already started seeing her as a sister. I tried to change things a few times, but it wasn't enough and it was far too late. Maybe if I'd got a grip a year earlier, told Frisk how I really felt, then maybe none of this would've happened. Maybe everyone would be alive and it'd be a perfectly happy world we live in. But..." He faltered, unable to continue as a fresh wave of melancholy hit him, staggering despite or perhaps because of its age.

 _But there's no point in wondering what could have been when we can't go back._ Caleb finished his sentence for him, voice suddenly emotionless, though it softened as he continued. _There's a lot I wish I'd done and said, too. I'd give practically anything to have a chance to redo the past year. But the thing is... we can't. All we can do now is try to... well. I don't know what we should do. But we can't dwell on the past. Do... do you understand, Asriel?_

"Yes," Asriel choked out, pushing himself up from the ground and busying himself with brushing dust off to distract himself from his welling tears. "I think... I think I needed that opportunity to vent, Caleb. Thank you."

 _Hey, you listened to my ramblings, least I can do is return the favor. Now let's get moving, alright?_

The dust swirled quietly around Asriel's feet as he resumed his trek towards civilization.


	5. Stay In Your Coma

**A/N: This chapter really shouldn't have taken so long to write, but surprisingly, writing a tale this dark is emotionally taxing, so I took a break to work on some of my lighter Undertale fanfics like [product plug cut to avoid reader annoyance], and then writer's block and procrastination got the better of me for a while. Apologies for the long wait, and I'll genuinely try to update more quickly in the future.**

* * *

The long walk continued.

Asriel had passed over into undamaged area a while ago, but he hadn't stopped for anything. For him, food was no concern, nor was sleep, and a need for rest was only a mild biological suggestion and not something needed. Caleb had taken the monotonous drive onwards surprisingly well, barely complaining, though the slowed movement within his soul made his boredom self-evident.

Currently, he was somewhere in eastern Pennsylvania. At Caleb's suggestion, they were headed to Philadelphia, where a temporary capital of sorts had apparently been cobbled together. (Why such a large city had been chosen over a smaller, more easily controlled one, he had no idea. Presumably the government had a reason.) Though neither of them were really sure what they expected to find there, it gave them a destination, and in the end that was all that was needed to prevent them from slipping into madness.

He'd stayed out of towns and avoided any human contact, just in case his flimsy facade were to fall. Regardless, he was very much so on edge, and for good reason. As far as he knew, he was the last living monster in the United States, and despite the fact that it probably wasn't doing his psyche any good to keep mentally repeating that, it was still the truth.

Knowing something to be true and wishing with all your heart that it wasn't was... debilitating to say the least. Which was why he needed to take his mind off it.

At the moment, they were walking along the side of a highway. Despite that the eastern United States had escaped the blast, they had seen very few cars. A few other people had been walking alongside the road as well, but Asriel had ignored them and they had ignored him.

For some reason, that brought him vague satisfaction.

Another person appeared upon the horizon, walking with a confident stride, carrying something at his side. As he drew closer, Asriel could see it was a baseball bat.

 _Weird. Why would he have...?_

 _He probably wants to protect himself._ Caleb guessed. _This is a dangerous new world that we've created._

Although there was no blame in his tone, Asriel still flinched.

A light breeze whipped up, setting Asriel's ears fluttering slightly under his hood. He shivered slightly.

Ahead, the man with the baseball bat swept it up to his shoulder in one smooth sweep. "You!" he shouted, his voice carrying across the silent highway. "Why are you out here?"

"I'm walking into the city." Asriel kept his tone neutral.

"Why?" challenged the man.

"Do you really need to know?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact." The man let the bat fall back to his side again. "Might be one of those goddamn dusters under the hood. It's their fault that half the continent was destroyed, and I ain't letting them finish the job. Now, take off the hood!"

Asriel's mouth moved, and he realized with horror that it wasn't him speaking. "As you wish," he heard Caleb's voice say, but as if from a distance, and his hand moved by itself and swept his hood off.

"Surprise!" Caleb's voice was unnaturally high. "It's me! One of those monsters you claim to hate!"

Asriel could feel his left eye growing hot, and he could see yellow flickering in front of his face.

"I was just going to walk by you," Caleb continued carelessly, "but here's the thing: RACISTS LIKE YOU DON'T DESERVE TO LIVE. If it's any consolation," he continued, "I'll make this quick for you. I want to waste as little time dismembering your body as possible."

A blazing yellow scythe, flickering and jagged around the edges, appeared in his- Caleb's- their hands, and with an animalistic snarl Caleb commanded Asriel's body to move forwards and strike.

The man just barely brought up his bat in time, connecting with the scythe and setting the metal grating against the magic weapon with a horrific screeching sound.

Disappointment radiating from his soul, Caleb made him swivel and slash again, this time taking off the tip of the bat. Yellow smoke filled the air.

 _Caleb, stop!_

Caleb ignored him, spinning again and sending the scythe into another slash, and with each movement, Asriel could feel his control weakening-

"No! STOP!"

Asriel dropped the scythe, and he could feel it vanish as he released his grasp. A dull, thudding pain filled his head as the smoke around him dissipated.

The shout hadn't come from him, nor Caleb, though... so who had...?

"Get the hell out of here!"

That definitely wasn't anybody Asriel knew. With a grunt, he forced himself to his feet, only to see another man grabbing the first by the shoulders and shaking him. "You hear me?" he snarled. "RUN!"

The man with the baseball bat ran, and the new person turned to Asriel, an indeterminate expression on his face.

"Who're... you...?" Asriel managed.

"I'm... My name's Toby Fox. Don't worry, I'm here to help you."

* * *

 ** _ROUTINE NUMBER ONE_**

 _They had come and gone, leaving eventually, yet the monster persisted, continuing his silent vigil at the side of his friend. Without him, he wouldn't have lived. The least he could do was sit here with him as long as it took._

 _He looked so small and alone, the purple trenchcoat that had acted as his shield against the world gone and his bones showing through his skin..._

 _A hand came down gently on his shoulder, and he looked up, flinching slightly, but it was just Damien, both his goggles and his glasses pushed up on his forehead and a weary expression on his face. "You gonna keep sitting there, kid?"_

 _The monster nodded silently in response, and with a grunt Damien sat next to him. Clasping his hands as he stared at his fallen brother lying there, he seemed so much older than his twelve years, so tired. "He really wanted to keep you safe, you know?" he said after a moment. "Looking back, I regret everything I said about him barely being able to look after himself, let alone some random kid. He... He looked after you, he did a better job than anyone I know would have been able to. He guided you past me back when I, uh, wanted to kill you, through half the damn human military, even, got you all the way to the end. He was a better older brother than I ever deserved."_

 _Without warning, the monster felt himself break into a fresh bout of tears. "He told me he'd be okay," he sobbed, "he said- he said they'd figured out a way to get him past this-"_

 _Damien placed a comforting arm around his shoulders. "We'll figure out something." he promised. "Mom's- she's trying to figure out something right now along with that Blackletter guy, we'll cure him soon."_

 _Swiping at his tears, the monster felt his emotions draining away. Strange. Why was he suddenly so devoid of emotion? "Damien," he said calmly, "you are a terrible liar."_

 _"Wh- I-"_

 _The monster stood, nearly knocking over his chair. "I'm not an idiot. I know he's going to die."_

 _"You don't-"_

 _"I'm sick of you treating me like a child." he barked. Damien flinched at the unrestrained hate in his voice, but he could care less about that. "I don't want to ever see you again."_

 _Quivering with anger, Asriel Dreemurr stalked out of the terminal ward and towards the hospital lobby. It was time to pay Alexander's father a visit._


	6. An Update

**Hey.**

 **It's been a while, hasn't it? Several months and you're still waiting for the next chapter.** **Most of you probably thought I got bored of this community and moved on to other things, but that's not true. Nothing could be further from the truth.**

 **It started around when I posted the last chapter. My motivation was faltering, so I went back to reread some of the earlier chapters I'd written back during Beyond Forgiveness. I was hoping that I'd remember why I started writing the Anomaly Cycle in the first place and regain my motivation, but instead, just the opposite happened. I was disillusioned by the comparably poor content of the early days and my motivation dropped dramatically. That I was (and indeed, still am) going through some really rough patches with my mental health didn't help matters, either.**

 **I won't lie, the last several months of my life have had some pretty hellish points where I was perfectly willing to remove myself from this world for good, or at least try to. I can't say I'm "better" now, but my motivation's come back, at least, and I figured that writing fanfiction again could be a good way to distract myself. Once I remembered that I never finished this, I was perfectly willing to pick up from where I left off like all this had never happened... until I went back to reread the series to get my bearings.**

 **All the old disillusionment came flooding back as I remembered exactly why I lost my motivation to keep going. I've long abandoned most of the headcanons I had when I started writing since they blatantly contradict canon, and being reminded of what an idiot I was back then was pretty disheartening. Honestly, I'm shocked any of you thought that any of this was decent enough to be worth reading. I almost deleted the whole series, and if I hadn't restrained myself because it was 2 in the morning by then and I was aware that sleep deprivation could be affecting my judgement, they'd all be long gone.**

 **In the end, I came to the conclusion that, while it was still salvageable, I wasn't willing to keep working on the Anomaly Cycle in its current form. The only way that I can keep it going and be happy with what I'm writing is to start over, rewrite the whole thing. The characters you know and love, both from the game and the original characters I added in, will still be there, and elements of the plot from the current Anomaly Cycle will still be there, but the rest will receive a massive and much-needed overhaul.**

 **I'll be honest- with the revised plot I've envisioned, there'll be several points where you'll probably find yourself questioning if this is even the same story anymore. You might even feel like it's lost the "spirit" of the original, which is why I'm ultimately leaving this up to you, the readers. There's no point in continuing to write it if you aren't going to read it, after all.**

 **You've got two choices. I can reboot the series and start over, or I can cancel it here and let it die, but I just can't continue from where I left off with such a horrendous beginning and middle. It's entirely up to you what happens next. You don't have to leave a long, complicated review explaining your reasons for choosing one way or the other- all you have to do is just type "You should cancel it" or "You should reboot it" if that's all you have to say.**

 **I'll be back to look at the results in a week or so. I need some time off from stressing myself out about what comes next.**


End file.
